How not to get duped at the petrol pump

It’s that time of the month again when Vinnie needs her food. I usually get the tank full at the petrol pumps for three reasons. This avoids extra trips to the pump and it is good for the engine since it results in reduction of the amount of time the level of petrol remains low in the tank. The third reason is to avoid the prospect of a confrontational situation which is explained below.

During initial days in Bangalore, I noticed that my spending on petrol has gone up quite a bit even though the distances covered daily were less than those in Gurgaon. I attributed that to nearly 15% difference in petrol prices and slow moving traffic here. However, with time, it came to notice that there were fluctuations in mileage in Bangalore itself; thousand rupees petrol sometimes lasted 15 days while other times it got over within 10 days.

It must be mentioned here that I am not someone who keeps a notebook on expenses per month and then sits and analyzes them. It’s just that I have a fondness for numbers. I remember quite a few of them and catch any inconsistencies easily. That had led to the blasphemous allegation that I am an extremely caring person just because I never forgot anyone’s B’day. Now I deliberately don’t wish people even if I remember their all sorts of anniversaries. Enough of me, let’s move to the point now.

Since petrol-pumps were the only variables in this situation, it was natural to suspect them. However, even for the same petrol pump, there were considerable variations sometimes. It was turning out to be an intriguing problem. So this one particular time, I decided to be more observant and asked the guy to fill petrol worth Rs.500 instead of the usual Rs.1000. Here is what happened:

I parked my car and got out of it in order to observe the meter closely.

“500”, I said. It’s fun to communicate with as few words as possible.

“Zero Sir”, he pointed to the meter.

“Sir, Cardaa or cashaa?”, another guy approached me. Happens always; get your payment done while the tank is getting filled. Parallel processing; no rocket science here.

I gave him the credit card without uttering a word, which, later I realized, also meant that my attention was diverted.

“Sir! Over. 200.” the first guy pointed to the meter.

“But I asked for 500; you never listen properly. Last time too you did the same thing”, I replied irritatingly.

“Sorry Sir, see zero again”. He went on to fill 300.

Satisfied, I signed the credit card receipt and started the car. Surprisingly enough, the petrol indicator hadn’t moved to half of what it used to move for 1000. “Must be a calibration error”, the forgotten and ignored Instrumentation Engineer in me tried to soothe the rest of me and succeeded for a while.

However, as soon as the car moved, I had the Eureka moment. In the first half of the filling, the full 200 never goes in; there is a button or a trick which when used, directly jumps to that mark. Asking for a credit card, or car wash/paint are tactics to divert the attention. The lost 200 was a smaller part of 1000, but this time when asked for 500, the difference was clearly noticeable.

I got down the car and confronted that guy. Initially he insisted that he heard 200 first. My line was "how come you always hear 200 instead of 500"; not a very persuasive one; all rhetoric and no evidence. There was a deadlock in arguments and it seemed useless to fight with the group. Threats of never visiting their pump didn’t earn any respect either.

Logic came to rescue once again. The car was definitely having some petrol (though not much) before they poured any into the tank. The tank, when empty, used to get filled in around 1700 when you convert currency to liters. The capacity of the petrol tank cannot be disputed. So, if he had already filled in 500 worth of petrol, then he must not be able to fill in worth 1200 more. I asked those guys to go for a full tank and if the amount crosses 1200, then I wouldn’t be paying a single penny. Of course, they didn’t have any comeback for this; that’s the best thing about maths, number of people on the wrong side don’t count.

I had been tricked in such manner more than once at other locations too. When checked with friends, nearly all of them recalled getting duped similarly quite often. Easy money.

So now I always say “full tank”; it cannot be mistaken for 200 or 100. Coming back from Goa I had a thousand rupee note, which I had to dispense off. On my next visit to the pump, I raised 10 fingers and said “Thousand, and don’t play that 200-waala trick with me”. A few extra words, but they were necessary.

Dilli Ka Thug : Part 2

Here goes the analysis of the first incidence in the Tricks-of-Trades series.

I turned. It was him.

Statistics:
When I look back, I think he had me even before I left my cab. Trying to talk to me in Marathi sealed the deal because you don’t hear that language a lot in Gurgaon while walking on its streets. In my office there was just one Maharashtrian, most of the outsiders were Bengali, Tamil & Telugu. What I failed to see was that he was targeting a “niche” market. He just needs one catch in maybe two-three nights since that catch can be milked handsomely. No point asking 5-10 rupees to fifty people.
It should be easy to picture Casanova paying all his attention to a single lady in the ballroom; the pretty damsel is flattered imagining herself to be the object of his attention. Casanova would much rather take her to bed with him that night than trying to get a peck on his cheeks from half the women in the room.
I suited the thug’s target profile very well. He wouldn’t waste his time on middle-aged men. Approaching women at night isn’t a very good idea. He would try his hand on younger folks like me. A lot of office cabs used to stop there. He would approach outsiders (I clearly didn’t look like a Jat or a Sardaar) and then try his luck with the language .The subject who is unaware of the well-thought sampling process is prone to fall for it if he speaks the same language. 20-25 me ek to fit ho hee jaayega.

Repeatability:
We must consider both the dimensions: Space and Time here. He cannot operate at the same place regularly. He has to have breaks and shifts. That day when I saw him again, he had to leave the place immediately when I demanded my money and threatened to call the police. Of course he feigned ignorance and I didn’t have a case strong enough to be proved or to be proud of. There was an old Indian playing similar trick with me in Manhattan when a colleague interrupted in between and repeated the thug's story. That colleague was a victim of the “Old Dr. Patel from California” whose luggage was lost by the airlines and money stolen. Dr. Patel immediately retreated.
Also, not all locations suit his operations. The place should be public, inside or very near to a market in the neighborhoods where young migrants stay.

Risks and Returns:
There is no doubt that for most of the thugs, this activity is just one of the side businesses. Some of them could be in fact be day-workers. There is a lot of competition too. As the comments to part1 suggest, many of them try similar stories. The entry-barrier, as they say in economics, isn’t too high. What this means is that they had to negotiate and divide the areas amongst themselves and maybe share the proceeds too in some cases. Still without doubt, the supply market for them is huge and growing.
Another outflow of income might be going to the Police in his operating zone. A Thulla knows one when he sees one. So the thug has to hedge his risks by bribing. Anyway, it is hard to prove the charge even if you catch him. Another major factor which leads to reduction in his risk is shame/embarrassment of the victim. Even the colleague in Manhattan just threatened Dr. Patel with a call to police; all three of us knew he won’t be doing that.
This phenomenon is somewhat parallel to what happens when a girl is teased by a bunch of sadak-chaaps. She doesn’t raise an alarm and might even thinks that it is somehow her fault; maybe the lipstick is too dark or the jeans too tight. She is ashamed to draw further attention. {Come to think of it, I have been saved of many vices simply due to inabilities. I can’t whistle loudly enough to make a girl turn. Not really sure whether a wink would have the desired effect when it comes from the eyes behind the spects. I didn’t take to smoking because when friends tried to teach me, I would consistently wet the cigarette; this irritated them to no end which resulted in a lot of cussing. I, being a self-respecting man at that age, gave up. } Let’s not digress any further.

Preventive/Corrective actions:
Each man being has his moments when given the circumstances he can be taken advantage of. Not very different is the case for a woman too. So what do we do apart from being alert and asking more questions?
Such thugs take advantage of the kindness in people. So do we stop being compassionate and close the door to the ones who really might be in need. There is a well known term in economics for such situations: “Asymmetric Information”. The solution here is to help people through trustworthy and efficient channels. Also you must realize that you are not God and don’t have the capability of lifting the whole world out of its misery.
Let me say a few good things about myself since it’s my blog. I sponsor a child’s education here. I told them not to tell me about my student, since then I would be doing this only for say a girl named Seeta rather than a girl named XYZ. This is being slightly mean and selfish on my part, but as Prashant Dhanke once said: Everyone is self-centered; it’s the radius that matters :). I redeem all my credit-card points to CRY. Now I can say “NO” with a little less guilt.

Dilli Ka Thug : Part 1

This is the first anecdote in the series “Tricks of trades” introduced in an earlier post. Part 1 describes the incident while Part 2 would be analyzing it.

On a cold winter night in Gurgaon around five years ago, my office cab stopped near the apartment I stayed in with friends. The driver passed me the register to put an entry for the trip. All this while, my eyes were fixated on a poor family sitting below the street lamp : two men, two women and five children out of which two were in their mothers’ laps; the children were crying and didn’t have any winter clothes to cover their body with. The family didn’t look like beggars though; they appeared to be villagers. I signed the register and got down the cab; the wind was quite chilly that December and I felt guilty wrapped in my oversized leather jacket which, friends now tell me, used to make me look like a goat in sheep’s wool.

As I walked towards the apartment, the elder amongst the two men (must have been around 35) asked me in broken Hindi whether I understand Marathi to which I replied in affirmative. He thanked Devi for that and then told me in Marathi that they were from a village in Nasik and that they were visiting a Devi’s temple when someone fooled them in train and took all their suitcases & money. A young one in his mother’s lap started yelling harder to which the man responded by shouting at his wife to keep the baby quite. I asked him whether they’ve had any food and learnt that the kind-hearted shopkeeper on the other side of the road gave them a packet of bread which, I suspected, must have been stale. Police just took their report, but didn’t help any further.

By this time I was feeling really sad for them and wondered with anger about the wicked ways of the world. These simpletons had come to visit a temple (the only form of tourism known to most of the Indian villagers) and someone was wily enough to put these men with women and little children in such a sorry state. On further enquiry, he told me that there’s a train tomorrow morning and he would forever be indebted to me if I could lend him 500 Rupees for the tickets. He had a lump in his throat as he said this, his eyes were watery and hands joined together. I put a hand on his shoulder to give him some comfort and nodded in agreement.

We both then walked towards the ATM. I was feeling quite proud of myself and magnanimous by now. I thought that I have lost count of how many thousands are there in my bank account, and what a great deal of difference just one of them would make to this bloke’s life. What good a man’s life is if it couldn’t help the ones in need: my conscience gladly told my mind to which a compassionate heart agreed heartily. I gave him 1000 Rupees to cover the tickets and buy some warm clothes and food for them. The man said that he doesn’t regret missing on the visit to temple as he met his God in me. I dismissed this foolish flattery with great disdain.

While on our way back from ATM to the place where his family was waiting, he noted down my address to which he would send the Money Order after reaching his village even before he drinks a drop of water. He was glad to meet a Marathi-manoos is such distress. I sort of scolded him for thinking that only a Marathi man would help him; I would have helped him even if he wasn’t Marathi (I really was getting too filmy by now). He asked the children to touch my feet when we reached there but I jumped back and then bid adieu to the family wishing them luck and instructing to not to trust anyone so easily now in the train.

"Abe badaa late ho gaya ! Kahaan fuss gaya tha saale. Aadhe ghante se wait kar rahen hain. Chal dinner karte hain fatafat. " one of my friends greeted me as I eneterd the flat.

"Kuch nahi yaar! Wo gaadi waala pahle Sector 7 le gayaa tha ; ladki thi saath me to uska last drop nahi ho sakta tha" I said in a resigned voice.

Some lewd comments followed about how that girl must have molested me throughout the trip; they blamed the winter for her high libido.

We sat down to have the dinner. Two of my friends started the routine bickering about the food which I interrupted with a lecture on how so many people die of hunger and that we should be grateful for having this food and a comfortable life.

"Mujhe lagta hain ek nahi 2-2 ladkiyan thi iske saath" was a very well received response.

Weeks past by and no Money order came. I was hurt. When I decided to give that guy the money, I didn’t have any intentions of getting it back. “He shouldn’t have promised to return the money while we were walking back from the ATM. I had never asked for it. Anyways, good that I helped the families reach home. Neki kar, dariya me daal” were my thoughts. I didn’t tell about the episode to anyone.

About six months later on a humid evening when I was taking a walk around my apartment, I heard a voice a few feet away: “Aapko Marathi samajhti hain kya saab?”

Tricks of trades: Introduction

Friday night. Music was exploding inside Vinnie as she zipped through the traffic at dangerous speeds to bring me back to home from work. All bills are paid ahead of time, car has been serviced and insured last week , groceries are well stocked, hair are short enough; in short, the weekend ahead had nothing better to do other than watch me switching between the bed and the bean bag . As the song goes, I had no deeds to do, no promises to keep. I really was feeling groovy, a drink was in order.

I parked the car and walked towards the “Happy Wine Shop” nearby to get a quarter of whisky. I had a 500 note along with a few 10’s. Something within me told me that the shop-keeper might try to cheat: he’ll pretend that I gave him a 100 rupee note instead of 500. So I memorized the number on the 500 note as an alibi. The romantic in me imagined that it would be pretty neat when I’ll grandly challenge him to check the 500 notes in his stack for the number I memorized and once vindicated, fellow customers would clap for me with admiration.

The thing costs 130; I gave the 500 note, he asked me for a change of 30 which I gave him and naturally expected 4 hundred rupee notes in return. He began packing the small box and gave it to me in a bag. I took it and then walked back without taking the 4 hundreds. I forgot!! Forgot to ask for the change, forgot the whole 500 vs 100 analysis done just minutes ago. I still remember the number on the 500 note, but when it mattered I forgot the reason why I memorized it. The next morning when I looked into my wallet, I realized my mistake. Going back to the shop was futile; still went there. Someone who sells liquor can’ be expected to be so honest; God knows how many men he has to bribe and how many weird characters he has to deal with in a day’s work.

The shop-keeper tried his luck and he succeeded against a fully prepared customer. He must be doing this many a times; sometimes he would win, the other times he’ll sheepishly return the change feigning oversight. Not much risk involved there. That’s one of the many safe long term strategies that people use quite often. Then there are other tricks too, some brilliant some naive, successful to varying extents.

Most of the professions allow the cunning ones opportunities to cheat/trick/take unfair advantages. A few of them might not even be illegitimate; rules & law can get you only so far. I recall being taken for a ride by the folks at petrol-pump, house-maid, shop-keepers, bank, land-lord, restaurants, cab-drivers, sales-persons, two professional con-men and some more. My story would be an antithesis of the movie “Catch me if you can”. I see a lot of smart ones around me fallen to similar stuff at the hands of apparently less educated and intelligent ones. The reason I think it is possible for a worker at petrol-pump to cheat an IITian with a degree in Economics from LSE is that he has a method. I have caught him when the same trick was being played the third time and when I shared this with my friends, most of them admitted being duped similarly and now are thankful for pointing it out.

I’ll be starting a series “Tricks of Trades” devoted to these incidents. Would take up examples from the list mentioned above and try to analyze the strategies that the subjects involved use. All these posts shall be under the label “Tricks of Trades”. The analysis would be around the forces that help these subjects take the advantage. I’ll try to see what is the economics involved, what kind of statistics favor the modus operandi and what are the psychological factors that are used. Also would think on the lines of risks involved, repeatability, longevity and long term pay-offs of the strategies from the trickster’s point of view.

I’ll follow it up with the way I felt and reacted after realizing the truth of the situation and what could be done to prevent/detect/minimize losses in such cases. Even the best prepared would loose sometimes. As the example above shows, I had already sensed what was to come, taken the precaution and yet when the time came my mind chose to reflect on other things in life and the preparations went in vain. The excuse given in such cases is that we are only human after all.